


cum laude

by Claudia_flies



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Corporal Punishment, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, MCU Kink Bingo, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rough Sex, maintenance spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 06:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17658098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claudia_flies/pseuds/Claudia_flies
Summary: He’d noticed things, of course he had. A mug left on the coffee table just so. Excessive shaving foam clogging the sink and toothpaste spray on the mirror. Dirty socks and underpants and sweaty t-shirts on the floor of the bedroom. He’d filed them away for after. After they dealt with the cell in Cleveland, after AIM. They’d been so busy, and he had let things slide, even while keeping score.





	cum laude

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'BDSM: Maintenance spanking' square for MCU Kink Bingo.
> 
> This is the third part in the [Latin For Lovers series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1099284), and it may make more sense if you read the first two parts first, but if you're just here for the porn, carry on!
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely Zilia.

 

 

 **cum laude** _(Latin)_ \- ‘with praise’

 

They’ve been busy. Maybe more so that usual. There’d been that thing with AIM, and Justin Hammer had poked his head above the parapet with some idiotic autonomous armor suits that had gone out of control, and there’s always Hydra, cell after cell after cell, and maybe Bucky had let things slide.

He’d noticed things, of course he had. A mug left on the coffee table just so. Excessive shaving foam clogging the sink and toothpaste spray on the mirror. Dirty socks and underpants and sweaty t-shirts on the floor of the bedroom. He’d filed them away for _after_. After they dealt with the cell in Cleveland, after AIM. They’d been so busy, and he _had_ let things slide, even while keeping score.

He’d let things slide when Steve needed him.

Here he is now, standing in the bedroom and looking at the soaking wet towel left in the bed. It’s been thrown into the sheets in such a purposeful manner that Bucky’s starting to worry Steve’s already in the hangar bay hiding all the parachutes in the quinjet.

He pulls open his bedside drawer and takes out one of the packets of lube hidden there. Shoves it in his pocket. There’s a big bottle on the nightstand too, but that’s not what he needs now. Not what _Steve_ needs now.

Steve, who is in the kitchen, still just in his sweats and a too-small white vest after his shower. That too is an invitation, on top of the towel, which Bucky’s been ignoring for too long. Well, not anymore.

He makes his way to the living room, letting Steve hear him, feet loud on the wooden floor. He seats himself on the couch, spreads his arms out on the backrest, pushes the coffee table aside with his foot. It makes a low screeching noise, and he can see Steve’s shoulders tense in the kitchen.

“Steve,” he says, letting his voice pitch low and stern. “Come here.”

As if pulled on a string, Steve turns and comes towards the couch, his fingers twisting the cords at the waistband of his sweats. So eager and trying to hide it. It makes Bucky smile, almost fond.

“I know you think I haven’t been noticing,” Bucky continues. “And I know that I haven’t been giving you what you need, have I?”

“Uh, I –,” Steve stammers, fingers twisting more and more of the cords. Pink high on his cheeks. It makes him look almost young suddenly.

It’s heady, that power differential that’s building between them as if by its own design. The way Steve’s standing there, unsure and on display. Bucky on the couch, taking up space.

“You’ve been trying to be a good boy, I know,” Bucky praises, and he can see that flush creeping down Steve’s neck. “But there’s been some things that I think we need to address, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve nods, his fingertips almost red from the pressure of the cords around his fingers. “Yes, sir.”

“Why don’t you pull your pants down for me?”

Steve’s nodding almost as he says it, twisting the cords loose in a hurry and pushing his sweats down. He’s not wearing any underwear, his cock already half-hard, chubby and flushed between his thighs.

Bucky lets him stand there for a moment, watching him. Appreciating the flush spreading down his chest, and into the low neckline of his vest, his tight, hard nipples pressing through the white fabric. Fingers twisting in the hem of the vest now that the cords are no longer within reach. Letting Bucky see that uncertainty, that tang of humiliation at being inspected like this.

As he looks up to Steve’s flushed, eager face, Steve parts his lips and says “please, sir.”

And isn’t that just the ticket, and Bucky smiles, patting his leg. “Over my lap, baby boy.”

Steve almost stumbles in his eagerness, pants around his knees as he fumbles to crawl over Bucky’s legs. He can feel Steve’s cock, all the way hard now, pressing into Bucky’s thigh as Steve settles himself. Ass up and presented just for Bucky. It’s round and tight and perfect, an unmarked canvas just for him.

He grabs Steve’s thigh, pulling his legs apart and settling him to Bucky’s liking. Brushing his fingers on the inside of Steve’s legs, over the swell of his ass and the divot of his lower back. Steve’s breathing picks up, hitched little gasps as Bucky’s fingers move over his skin. He loves this, the anticipation.

“Good boy,” Bucky croons and Steve whines into the couch cushions, hips working to rub his cock into Bucky’s leg. For that, he gives Steve a sharp smack; it echoes loudly in the room, leaving a pink mark behind.

“None of that now,” Bucky tuts, and surprisingly, Steve settles into stillness, waiting.

“Do you know why we’re doing this?”

“Uhuh,” Steve nods, his face pressed into the couch.

“Tell me.”

“The towel,” Steve hedges, voice muffled by the couch cushion.

The smack lands squarely on Steve’s left butt cheek and he jerks forward, gasping, but Bucky doesn’t let up, just adjusts Steve on his lap where he wants him.

“And?”

“Uh, the clothes on the floor.” Steve lifts his head, voice clearer now.

Another sharp smack, this one to the right cheek. A nice matched set of pink rising up on the skin.

“And?”

“Ah, ah, the dishes, I didn’t do the dishes,” Steve whimpers. His hands grasp for the cushions, pushing his ass up for more, and Bucky doesn’t disappoint his boy.

He brings his hand down in another smack, loud and hard with a full palm right on the middle of Steve’s bottom, loving the way it makes Steve kick up.

“And?”

“I –, I don’t –, I don’t know,” Steve tries, and Bucky smooths a hand over his ass. Admiring those pink marks his hand has left behind.

“Because I know you need it, baby boy. Don’t you? That’s why you’ve been so naughty.”

“Yes,” Steve moans, almost grateful, and Bucky smiles.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky loves that, loves the deference. Loves the thought of being Steve’s CO, being able to tell him what to do, when to do it, and have Steve obey. The swoop in his stomach every time Steve yields. The anticipation that builds every time Steve disobeys so flagrantly. He squeezes the thick muscle of Steve’s bottom in his hand, digging his fingers into those pink marks there. Listening to the hitch in Steve’s breath. Holding that long, still moment of anticipation for both of them.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, and then he really starts.

Smacking right over the meat of Steve’s ass, the tops of his thighs. Watching the skin redden under his hands. Watching as Steve jerks with each hit, his cock pressing and rubbing into Bucky’s thigh. It must be so wet at the tip now, precome staining the fabric of Bucky’s pants. The sound of each smack is loud and steady in the room. Only accompanied by Steve’s hitched moans and cries.

He spreads Steve’s cheeks wide with his left hand, metal fingers pressing into the soft, vulnerable flesh to expose Steve’s tight, pink hole, and he spanks that too. The tips of his fingers smacking into the puckered ring until it’s swollen and red. Until Steve’s twisting and squirming, his toes digging to the wood floor. Helpless in Bucky’s hold.

He’s crying and panting, begging into the couch cushions he’s pressed his face into, wordless and loud. He’s so vocal now, where he used to be silent and stoic, and Bucky loves both. Loves hearing it, and loves the challenge of making Steve break, to pull those noises from him.

Bucky knows now that this is what Steve needs. The submission and vulnerability; and the pain too. It’s taken Bucky longer to admit that it’s what _he_ needs too, to have Steve splayed open before him, obedient and marked by his hand. That twisted need to control him that lives inside him. He’d feared it for a long time after he came back to himself, fearing it was something from _them_ , before he remembered his and Steve’s cold water walk-up, remembered Steve’s bruised-up nose and the creaks the couch made under him as he pulled Steve over his knees and spanked his skinny ass black and blue.

Breaking the rhythm of the spanking, he pushes his thumb into the hot clutch of Steve’s anus, feeling it blood-hot and sore.

“You need this baby boy, huh? You need something in you too?”

“Please, sir, please,” Steve sobs, twisting and moving like he can’t stay still.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks. “Fingers or my cock?”

“Your cock,” Steve whispers. “Please, sir.”

“Alright, baby, on the floor then, on your knees, and over the table.”

Steve stumbles in his eagerness, near-on falling off Bucky’s lap and crawling across the short space where Bucky’s pushed the coffee table. Laying himself down on it, ass in the air and legs spread. Just teasing Bucky with the view of his swollen hole.

He pulls the lube packet from his pocket as he gets up, and pushes down his sweats as he settles behind Steve on his knees on the floor, hands coming to rest on his hips. He can feel the heat radiating from Steve’s ass, the blood rushing to the surface, the bruises forming there. He’s so pretty like this, spanked and needy and so, so willing. He spreads Steve’s ass and spits at his hole, rubbing the spittle around the sore rim. Working a tip of his finger inside, but no more.

He rips open the lube and slicks up his cock, hissing at the sensitivity. He’s been ignoring it all this time, so focused on Steve that he’d near-on forgotten his own burning arousal. It’s all rushing up now, his balls tight and the head of his dick wet. He gives himself a few light strokes, just to get the lube all over before he presses his body against Steve’s thighs, against his spanked ass. Sliding the tip of his cock against that sweet divot of Steve’s anus. Bucky can feel Steve’s breath hitch at the contact.

“Please, sir,” Steve moans, high and needy.

“Please, what, baby boy?” Bucky teases back, pressing his dick into the tight give, but no further.

“Fuck me, sir. Please.”

“Well, aren’t you a polite boy,” Bucky murmurs as he forces the head of his cock inside.

He knows it hurts from the way Steve twitches, the way his legs tense and lock, from the way he’s trying to push into the pressure, to get more of it, but Bucky doesn’t let him. With an iron grip on Steve’s hips, he keeps Steve still as he pushes inside with a slow, steady press until his balls are tight against Steve’s taint.

“That tight little ass, just for me, isn’t it, baby?” Bucky grinds out, pressing into the sore sit-spots of Steve’s ass, making him feel the spanking all over again, waking up that hurt in exactly the way he knows Steve loves.

“Yes, sir,” Steve moans. “Just for you, sir.”

“Such a polite boy I have,” Bucky praises, sliding his thumb around Steve’s stretched-open rim, feeling how puffy and swollen it is. How much it’s taken, and he can’t help but slide the tip inside alongside his cock. Just to feel Steve tense, to feel the tremors running up his legs, his back, to listen to the way his breath gets that frantic little hitch when he’s about to come.

“Sir, sir!”

He’s desperate now, Bucky knows. He can feel Steve’s legs bracing where they’re still trapped inside his pants. Caught and tied down, held in place for Bucky.

He slides his thumb deeper, curling it, tugging.

“Please, sir!” Steve wails.

Bucky spreads the fingers of the hand holding down Steve’s hip, pressing into one of the livid bruises as he says, “you can come, baby.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when he feels Steve’s hole spasming around his finger and cock. Watching as he minutely rocks back against Bucky’s dick inside him, shooting his load between his belly and the wood of the table where his cock is trapped.

Steve makes almost no noise, mouth open in a soundless scream against the wood, eyes closed tight and tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. Bucky can’t believe how beautiful he looks, how perfect. How he wouldn’t have gotten there without Bucky.

He pulls his thumb out and starts to thrust, rough and hard, making Steve feel it. Loving the little hurt noises Steve’s making; he’s so sensitive now, and too worked up to move. Bucky just takes what he wants. Fucks his boy like he deserves. Like he wants.

It doesn’t take long; he’s been ready to go ever since Stave crawled over his lap, ass pristine and willing. It’s not pristine now, red and bruised, all from Bucky’s hand, and it’s that thought that makes him come, makes him press deep inside Steve’s hole and fill his insides with Bucky’s come. Mark him, claim him, own him.

After he pulls out, he keeps Steve there, bent over the low table. Legs spread and fucked out, watching the slow trickle of semen from his wet, used hole. He rubs it in and around the now-lax rim. Wanting to rub the memory of himself into Steve’s skin. Right there where no one else can see it. This is just for him.

Steve’s shivering, breath hitching and Bucky pulls him up and into his arms.

“Oh baby boy, you were so good for me, so good, baby.”

Steve’s nodding against him, curling up, and they rock like that for a while, both still on their knees. Steve wrapped in his arms, pressed to his chest. He rubs his face into Bucky’s shirt, leaving streaks of tears and sweat behind, and Bucky loves that too, those marks, those signs of what they’ve done.

“Is that what you needed?” he eventually asks, quiet and gentle, and Steve nods again, still hiding his face.

“Good,” Bucky says. “Good. I’m always gonna be here to give you what you need.”

And it feels like their truth coming out finally. Like a promise he can keep, even after seventy years, it’s something that’s never going to change. Something that’s written so deep into his DNA that no time or distance can erase it.

Steve lifts his head from Bucky’s chest and his eyes are bright and wide. Like he knows everything. Like he can see it on Bucky’s face.

“I know, Buck, I know,” he says.


End file.
